Breath 4 me
by SpitzeFeder
Summary: Season 2 is finally aired in germany, but already the promos for season 3 are up and I DON T WANT TO WAIT ANOTHR YEAR FOR IT! HELP! So I came up with a little fanfic whump and care as I love it, inspired by the season 3 promo and the nice new conic video posted on Instagram. As always I don t own anything. English still is not my first language, so please excuse the mistakes
1. Chapter 1

_Repost of Chapter One, after the sneak peak No. 4 was released :-) I changed a few aspects and hope you like and follow! _

* * *

"With the fire the whole place could go off, get out of here!"  
was the last thing Conrad called before he turned around and ran back into the flaming inferno to search the missing boy.

The only thing Nic could do was staring helplessly through the glass door that parted her from her lover.  
"No," she called to herself. All she could do was getting her nerves together, helping Annie, the injured engineer out of here and find help. With one last look into the growing smoke she turned around, grabbed the heavily breathing woman around the waist and together they made their way upstairs.

* * *

The construction site of the new neurosurgical building was angled and blocked by building equipment and materials. The first explosion at the treatment chamber had left thick smoke, that was pulling through the corridors, but Conrad worked on autopilot. The missing little boy from the emergency room was still down here somewhere. But the roaring flames and the acrid smell of smoke was closing in on them.

He turned a corner and there he was, barely discernible under a stack of fallen metal plates. He hefted the plates aside with brute force and knelt down next to his fallen body.

"Greg? Greg, can you hear me?" No reaction.  
He leaned down to the child and could hear rattling breaths. For a moment he dared to breathe a sigh of relief as his eyes took in their surroundings. Greg had fallen right next to the main apparatus, from which white, hot steam pressed against the low ceiling.

The Proton B Excellerator, whatever had happened to it, was about to explode. Annie, his long time friend, had said they could be "fussy", but that something like that could happen, Conrad had never imagined. No time for first aid, this could only work with a crash rescue. Without much ado, Conrad hoisted the small body into his arms, looked around once more, and headed resolutely towards the exit. This was no place to stay any minute longer.

They had almost reached the save security door when hell broke loose behind them. He felt the boiling air before it reached them, felt the blast before he heard the explosion. Instinctively he turned his back to the fire, let the kid sink to the ground and threw himself over it to protect the boys body with his own. The flames raced over his head, the blast almost shattered his skull. He felt burning heat as the shockwave threw him to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

The explosion had shattered the doors safety glass.

After escorting Annie upstairs and calling the emergency via an in-house telephone, Nic had run back to the glass door, contrary to their instructions, to look for Conrad. She could not leave him alone down here, not after what they had promised each other this morning. Finally they had found back together, she could not lose him, not now.

The second blast and the burning flames could not reach Nic through the outer walls, yet out of reflex she threw herself to the ground when she heard the eardrum-breaking crash. Immediately she scrambled back to her feet, ignoring the shards cutting into her hands and reached through the frame to finally open the door's closing mechanism.

A few paces away two bodies were lying in smoke and flames. With two steps she was at Conrads side and dropped to her knees. He lay so still, so incredibly still, as she turned him on his back and groped for a pulse with trembling hands. Relief passed through her as she felt a faint throb.

While her searching fingers reached for a lifesign, she heard heavy footsteps and shouts from the other side.  
"Miss Nevin! Nic! Where are you?"

Nic coughed.  
"Here! We are here! Help!"

Without paying further attention to the voices, she exclaimed desperately:  
"Conrad?" and leaned over him.

A hand on his chest she listened to his breath, but her face panicked when she found nothing.  
No lifting and lowering of the chest, no breathing noises. Nothing.  
Conrad was totally still.

"No, Conrad, no!" she cried, her voice half smothered.

With her knuckles she rubbed forcefully over his breastbone, then she stroked back her hair, overstretched his neck and pressed her lips firmly on his. Another deep breath, once more mouth-to-mouth.

The smoke brought tears to her eyes.  
"Conrad, dammit!"

Two more breaths. Nic flinched as suddenly a heavy gloved hand fell on her shoulder.  
"Miss! We take over from here!"

Two firefighters in rebreathers and full fire protection equipment had knelt down beside them.  
"We take care of him. You have to get out of here."

When Nic looked up, she saw two more firefighters taking care of the injured child Nic had totally forgotten about, already picking it up and heading for the broken door.

A mask was pressed onto her face. She shook it off.

"No, listen, he's not breathing!" she yelled desperately at the firefighter.  
"He has a pulse, but he is not breathing!"

One of the firefighters took her by the shoulders and pushed her aside, then pressed the mask on Conrad's face and, as Nic had done before, rubbed his knuckles hard over the sternum of the injured. No reaction. At least none that Nic could see.

"We all have to get out of here. The smoke is getting denser and there're probably more explosions coming."

One of the firefighters took a few deep breaths from his rebreather, tearing it from his face and pressed his lips to Conrad's mouth.  
He repeated this twice, while his colleague picked the nurse up and pushed her to the door.

"Go, we take care of him!"  
Nic stumbled more than she ran and a few steps ahead she stumbled into a female firefighter, also in full protective clothing, which took her by the shoulders and half led her, half dragged her out of the basement.

* * *

Nic's heart raced as well as her thoughts.  
Daylight greeted them at the bottom of the stairs, incomprehensible voices and sirens.

She felt hot tears streaming down her dirty face. With a firm hand, the firefighter led her to a waiting ambulance, pushed her to the threshold and put an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.  
"You are Nurse Nevin, yes? Are you hurt?"

"Nic? Oh my God, Nic, were you down there?"  
Devon's pale face appeared in front of her, and tore Nic out of her delirium.  
"Devon," she breathed.  
"Devon, Conrad is still down there!"

Devon's eyes widened.

"No!"  
"Yes, the firefighters are with him," Nic sobbed.  
"He's not breathing, Devon, he did not breathe. God, maybe he's already dead."  
She fell into the young intern's arms. Devon could do nothing but hold her. Anxious seconds passed.

But there, from the smoke and soot, he could finally see three people appearing: two tall firefighters carrying a third between them.  
Devon jumped up immediately.  
"They're coming."

He sprinted off, reaching the trio as they gently discarded the lifeless body on a blanket. The firefighters tore their rebreathers off their faces and looked up to the young doctor.  
"Heavy smoke poisoning. We've been rescue-breathing for about three minutes," explained one, while the other bent over Conrad again to squeeze some life-giving oxygen into the injured mans lungs.

Devon swallowed.  
"I need an ambu-bag and an intubation set right now!" he jelled as he dropped to his knees beside Conrad.  
"Can you keep up?" he asked the firefighter, who nodded and refilled his lungs.

At that very moment Mina dropped to her knees beside them. Without a word, she pressed an ambu-mouthpiece over the mouth and nose of their friend and began to ventilate him with the ambu-bag. Other emergency equipment was brought in and Devon let his stethoscope wander over Conrads chest. He nodded to Mina.  
"Keep going."

To another helper he said  
"Prepare intubation. Wire him and I need a large-bore IV-access. Push 2 mg Cortisone."


	3. Chapter 3

_Uhh, I wanted to finish this story before the new season starts, but unfortunately the upcoming chapters take a while longer than expected. Hope you enjoy anyway! _

* * *

"What are the prospects?" came Bell's slightly slurred voice from the door of the traumabay, where they had taken Conrad after the emergency intubation. They had to attach him to a respirating machine, various monitors showed a critical but reasonably stable vital state.  
The young doctor was not out oft he woods yet.

The soot had been roughly cleaned from the young doctor's face. The head wound was freshly stiched and covered with a sterile plaster.  
"He's hanging in there," Mina, Devon and Irving looked up as Bell stepped to the bed.

"How did that happen?" Mina asked with barely hidden reproach. Bell was visible struggling for words. Finally he managed to press out:  
"It was ... it was the cooling system. Apparently there was a defect in the pipes and the system overheated. Some fire regulations where condoned by construction workers, but in the end it was an accident," he finally blurted out. Then he remembered who he was talking to. His gaze lingered on the doctors shocked faces, then he turned around abruptly.

"I have to call his father," he said on the way to the door, with one last look at Conrad's unmoving body.

* * *

Bell was rushing through the hallways like in trance, into his office, past his agitated secretary. For the last hour, everybody seemed to demand his attention, but he could not shake off the images. The images of the black smoke rising from the new building. The building that was to bear his name. The flickering flames, the sound of the explosion, the crashing windows, the coughing people, the sirens. He could not get rid of them, the images and sounds, and could not think clearly.

Marshall Winthrop had certainly already heard about the fire from the media, but he could not know that his own son was among the victims. The whole plan had ended in an absolute disaster. Three people seriously injured, including a child, a dozen more light casualties. Millions of dollars flushed down the drain by quench water, the reputation of the Chastain Memorial ruined. What if any of the agreements "negotiated" by Redrock Mountain Medical Company was emerging into public? They would decollate him.

83% of relatives are more willing to refrain from pressing charges if the doctor in charge was sincerely apologizing for his mistake. It was better that the CEO himself was explaining to Marshall Winthrop the fate of his son. At least he could feign some sympathy. It had worked often enough by families of victims of medical malpractice.

The phone rang and pulled him out of his thoughts  
"Dr. Bell, Marshall Winthrop on line 2."

Bell took a deep breath before answering.  
"Randolph, what's going on in Atlanta?"  
Marshall's voice sounded shamefully calm. The man could really keep his nerves together.

"Marshall, we had a severe fire with a subsequent explosion," Dr. Bell answered sincerely.  
"It ...," his voice broke for a moment, "it seems the new neurosurgical building has been completely destroyed."

He swallowed, as he heard Winthrop breathe noticeably at the other end of the line.  
"Are there any casualties?" he asked.

"As if he had known, this bastard," it shot through Bell´s head. He closed his eyes briefly to calm down.  
"Unfortunately, yes, Marshall," his voice changed as he now spoke as a doctor with the family member of a perilously injured patient.  
"Marshall," he started again. "Unfortunately Conrad is among the three seriously injured."

For a few moments Winthrop said nothing. Then Bell heard his scratchy voice.  
"What happened?"  
"Conrad tried to rescue a child who had disappeared from the emergency room into the basement when the whole department blew up."

Marshall let out an audible breath.

"The fire department was able to get both of them out, and right now your son is stable."

Marshall swallowed. Again a few seconds of silence. Bell routinely waited for the afflicted relative to regain his focus for more detail. It was always the same, he had done that a thousand times. Finally he continued.  
"He inhaled a lot of flue gas, at the moment he is on artificial respiratory."

He could almost see Marshalls distressed face and felt a pang of pity.

"And the child?"  
Now it was up to Bell to not know what to say for a few seconds. His face took on a tortured expression. The uncertainty was the worst, for both sides.  
"We do everything in our power," he finally replied. That could mean anything and nothing. But mostly it did not mean anything good.  
Bell did not know what else to say. Silence.

"I'll aviate to Atlanta as soon as possible," it finally came from Winthrop. And then, apparently again businesslike:  
"Keep me updated on everything."

Then he hung up. Bell did not know, but in Philadelphia Marshall Winthrop cupped his face in his hands and sobbed. He could not hold back the tears. A dark cloud of fear hung over him, his heart cramping. He would not survive losing his only son he had just found again.


	4. Chapter 4

As if from syrup, Conrads awareness emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. A terrible fullness filled his throat, he could not breathe. Air, he needed air. The dark basement was filled with smoke, he could see nothing, hear nothing, not breathe.  
Greg. Annie. Nic. He had lost her, could not help them.

Unprecedented dread filled his mind. His heart pounded in his chest.  
He was sure it would fail its duty at any moment. Air. He could not breathe.

* * *

The room around him was at once filled with confused activity. The monitors had suddenly shrilled in alarm, AJ Austin, Devon and 2 nurses had stormed in.

Nic, who had been sitting motionless by Conrads bedside for hours, scrubs quickly pulled over her still-ragged clothes, had been ripped from her trance by the shrill alarm bells.  
Conrads heartrate had shot through the roof from one second to the next.

He gasped, struggling against the tubes. My God, Conrad was awake.

* * *

As the breath-assisting medication began to work, the sedation had been reduced for several hours to allow his respiratory reflex to return and allow him to breathe independently again.

But that was exactly what hindered the breathing apparatus he was still attached to.

Conrad simply could not do anything the easy way, Nic thought, before a colleague took her arm resolutely and wanted to lead her out of the hospital room.

Instead of slowly emerging from anesthesia like most other patients, Conrad's eyes just popped open and terror darkened his otherwise clear blue eyes. He did not know where he was, did not know what had happened and what had put him in that uncomfortable position.  
All he felt was agony. And he responded the only way he knew: Fight.

Within moments, a nurse and AJ Austin's strong arms pinned him back onto the bed. They tried to give instructions and calm Conrad at the same time. But they did not succeed. Conrad fought like a lion mobilizing his last reserves to escape a mortal danger.

Austin already demanded to hand him a sedative, so that Conrad did not tear the breathing tube from the throat, as Nic fought free of her colleague and leaned over her boyfriend desperately. One hand lay on his chest, one stroked his ruffled hair. Her voice was insistent. "Conrad. Conrad You have to calm down. Do not fight it, I beg you."

And indeed, Conrad's frightened gaze relaxed a bit, searching for Nic's eyes. His face showed a painful expression.  
"I know, I know, you feel horrible." Nic murmured as she continued to caress her hair.  
"You're attached to a breathing apparatus that's already breathing for you. Please Conrad."

She looked deep into his eyes. He was calmer now, seeming to focus solely on her face.  
"That's better, calm down. Let the machine breathe for you."

His eyes closed, the alarm bells silenced. His pulse slowed.  
AJ searched Nic´s eyes and nodded approvingly.  
Then he turned to his patient and put a big hand on his shoulder.

"That's better, Conrad. We'll take care of you."  
The new voice made Conrad look up.

Slowly his disoriented brain began to arrange the obvious: white ceiling, annoying monitors, a breathing tube in front of his nose: ICU.

There was a pleading request written in his eyes. AJ understood.  
"We are now driving down the machine slowly. Please try to relax."

AJ threw an asking look at Pravesh, who immediately started to work on the apparatus.  
"You know the drill, Conrad. This may take several minutes. When you breathe on your own again we remove the tube."

Conrad's eyes searched and found Nic's, her face close to his own, continuing to run a reassuring hand through his hair. She knew how much he loved that gesture.

* * *

They could not tell how much time had passed when Austin turned back to Conrad, who had closed his eyes as if asleep.

"Breathing is stable, vital signs okay, I think we can extubate," AJ stated.  
"Conrad?" Directly addressed, the young resident opened his eyes with a little effort.

Nics reassuring presence and the prospect of being detached of this monster and breathe independently again had made him doze off. He had imagined himself lying in his big comfortable bed at home, Nic cuddled in his arms.  
He had smelled her hair and felt her warm skin on his. Had that only been this morning?

His heartrate began to accelerate again, he could clearly hear the beeping of the heart monitor.  
How long had he been unconscious? What about little Greg? Did they find him?

"Conrad, you have to stay calm," Austin admonished him. Their eyes met.  
Someone had lifted the headboard of his bed to a more seated position.  
Conrad could not remember when that happened. His head felt very fuzzy, his brain was not working properly.  
What had Austin said? He looked up at the tall thoracic surgeon.

"Do you understand, Conrad? When I say it you cough and spit it out, ok?" Conrad nodded.

The feeling that followed was pretty much the worst Conrad had ever experienced. The tube seemed thick and infinitely long. It took forever for Austin to say "and cough" and the end of the breathing tube slid out of his throat.

Conrad choked and gasped. Immediately an oxygen mask was placed over his mouth and nose and he gratefully inhaled the fresh cool oxygen. His eyes watered and he felt more than he saw Austin pushing his stethoscope on his chest and back to examine his heart and lungs.  
"Deep, calm breaths, Conrad," he addressed him.  
"The worst is over."

A warm hand gently wiped away the tears, which had filled his eyes at the unpleasant procedure.

He brought his hand up to the oxygen mask.  
"Nic," he looked at her, she immediately grabbed his hand and put the mask back on.  
"Leave it alone, Conrad. You inhaled quite a bit of flue gas."

But Conrad was stubborn and insisted on asking the questions that burned behind his forehead since he regained consciousness.  
"Nic, are you ok?"

She smiled, as did AJ Austin, who changed a look with Devon as he bagged his stethoscope.

She smiled crookily, her eyes filling with tears. That was so typical Conrad: he always asked first about the others.

Quietly she replied: "I'm fine, love."

She saw the relief flit across his face. His hand found hers and he squeezed it surprisingly strong.

Then his eyebrows contracted im another question.  
"Greg and Annie?" Austin understood: the two people he had risked his life for.

"They are in the ICU, with multiple fractures, cuts and burns," his dark voice answered.  
Conrad nodded and let his eyes slip close.

Everyone seemed to be safe for the time being.  
It was ok to rest for a short while.


	5. Chapter 5

"Doctors are really the worst patients,"  
Nic said a little later, as she handed Conrad a cup for the umpteenth time to bring some relief to his rough throat and that he took in some fluids next to the IV.

Conrad really was a pigheaded fellow. After being freed from the ventilator, he had only slept peacefully for about an hour, then woke up and tried to remove the nasal cannula that had replaced the oxygen mask.

Nic had been lucky to only have taken a quick shower and was back at Conrad's bed by that time, otherwise this stubborn would probably even have managed to get up, get dressed and return to work.

But Nic had been able to calm him down, explaining to him with a resolute voice that he had just awakened from anesthesia and had only been breathing independently for an hour. It would take several hours, if not a few days, and several tests before his doctors would allow him to work again. First, it had to be made certain that his lungs had not sustained any permanent damage from the smoke poisoning and that his circulation was stable enough to be safely sent home.

* * *

Conrad grumbled. He was glad that Nic had remained unharmed except for a few scratches. She had sat by his bedside for an indefinitely amount of time until he urged her to rest on one of the bunks in the nurses' room, if she did not want to go home.  
Conrad hoped she would relax there.

To be bound to this hospital bed and let others take care of him was not his thing. He preferred to care for others, and found it immensely difficult to relax, to allow himself to stay more or less quiet, connected to monitors, oxygen and IV, and everybody shooting him those infinitely concerned and compassionate looks.

It annoyed him not to go his own ways and he hated himself for not feeling better.  
His mind still stalking through syrup, a throbbing headache and a strained tightness in his chest crippling his usually so well-functioning body. Spending time on something like recovery was far from Conrad's nature.

Added to this was his concern for "his" patients Annie and Greg. By some persuasiveness he had managed to get more information from Devon about their injuries. Annie had had several large pieces of glass to be surgically removed, her body was burned grade 2 on several areas, and several ribs where fractured. A long recovery time awaited her.

The boy had multiple fractures and a craniocerebral trauma that was still unclear if it needed surgery. He was attached to a respirator and his parents kept watch beside his bed.

Conrad would have liked to assist them.

But he had to lay here, concentrating on drawing oxygen into his lungs. His head throbbed with every sound, and the burns he had sustained on both arms, now covered with sterile patches, burned like fire.

A pitcher of water stood beside his bed and Nic, Devon and Mina had asked him to drink plenty. But swallowing was still painful. He did not want to take any more painkillers, just wanted to get out of that sickroom and get where he was needed.

A movement at the door tore him out of his gloomy thoughts.

A tall man unknown to him entered Conrad's room reluctantly.  
"Dr. Conrad Hawkins?" he asked. Conrad nodded and narrowed his eyes briefly.

"I'm Greg's dad, my name is Ralph Genario."  
"Mr. Genario, how is your son?" croaked Conrad with a small smile.  
The man swallowed and seemed to fight back tears.  
"They are taking him to the OR. Apparently he has a brain haemorrhage that needs surgery."

Conrad was shocked and tried to sit up in his bed.  
"I am very sorry, Mr. Genario."

The man managed a small smile.

"I ... I just wanted to talk to you briefly and thank you for everything you did for my son. No matter what happens to him now. For the chance to see my son alive one last time, I will be forever grateful."

He reached for Conrad's hand and squeezed it briefly. Then he wiped the tears from his face, nodded without another word, and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

Conrad sat in his bed, completely dismayed for a few seconds. Then he made a decision, reached for his IV and without much ado pulled the long needle from his arm.


	6. Chapter 6

_Yeah, this story is really finished before season 3 is aired! Now I´m exited for spoilers! ;-) Enjoy the last chapter! _

* * *

Without anyone noticing Conrad made his way to the door to the gallery of the operating room 2. He quietly opened it and, to his surprise, found Nic sitting there, her chin propped on one hand, her eyes fixed on what was happening in the OR below.  
She looked up as he came in and her eyes widened.

"Conrad, what are you doing here?" She breathed in alarm.

He was already sitting next to her and reached for her hand. Embarrassed, his lips pressed together.  
"I just wanted to see how Greg is doing."  
He nodded briefly in the direction of the OR.  
"How's it going?"

"Cain has just opened him up,"  
Nic explained, dropping her head wearily against Conrad's shoulder. Tears ran from her eyes. She barely noticed them.  
"Conrad, I'm so sorry."

Conrad's eyebrows tightened uncomprehendingly.

With his free hand he stroked a strand of hair from Nics face.  
"What are you sorry for, love?" Nic took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"I ... I did not notice him. Conrad, when I saw you both down there, I was in a panic. I could only take care of one of you, and I ran to you immediately. I completely ousted Greg. That ... " she paused. "I blame myself, Conrad."

Conrad continued to stroke her hair and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He understood that guilt so well. The fear of not having done enough not to have reacted properly. In his career as a medic and doctor he had felt these emotions a thousand times. But one was not allowed to be stopped by them. Decisions had to be made. Every day, every hour, every minute.

"Do not torment yourself, Nic. That makes no sense. Greg will make it, the firefighters got him out in time."  
He kissed her again.  
"All of us."

They clung to each other and quietly watched the procedure in the operating room.

* * *

It was a close call, but finally Dr. Cain lifted his gaze from the surgical field and announced that the bleeding was stopped and the patient stable. A surgical assistant began to close the wound and Nic and Conrad moved out of their embrace for the first time in hours.

"You have to go back to bed,"  
Nic's sad, tired eyes looked worriedly at Conrad as he pulled his arm from her shoulder and struggled to get out of his uncomfortable chair.

He smiled mischievously and pretended a sad face. Both could feel the relief of the other and were glad that Greg had survived the operation.

Nic grabbed Conrad's hand to guide him from the gallery, when she felt him staggering and his free hand involuntarily sought after the support of the armrest.  
"Conrad?"

He swallowed and covered his bleary eyes with his hand.  
His face had turned pale. His knees buckled and he slid heavily to the ground.  
His chest rose and fell intermittently.

Nic turned and supported him, helping him to lie down carefully on the floor.  
"Conrad, what's wrong?"

Conrad, trying to shoo the dark edges off his field of vision, closed his eyes for a moment.  
"It's alright. I ... I just need some fluids," he croaked

Nic wanted to get up and get help.  
"I get you to IV," she stammered, but Conrad held her back.  
"No, no. Stay with me."

His veiled gaze stayed fixed on her eyes as she smiled briefly and slid to the floor next to him.  
Her cool hand lay on his hot, dry forehead she drove lovingly through his hair. A while they're watching each other while Conrad waited for the dizziness to fade away.

"When I saw you lying on the ground," she started, "I was so scared."  
She put his hand to her cheek. He could read fear and worry in her face.

"I'm not going anywhere." He mumbled. "You're stuck with me."  
Another mischievous smile stole to his lips. Nic exhaled audibly. She loved this man, and never before had she feared losing him forever.

But it was first to Conrad to say  
"I love you".

And this time, Nic could not help it.  
She pressed her lips to his hand held in hers as if she never wanted to let go, closed her eyes and replied  
"I love you, too."


End file.
